milliways_bar | (no subject)

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The door opens, and the chatter on the other side of the door is almost similar to the chatter within the bar itself. (He'd been in the Great Hall.)

A young boy of sixteen lingers by the woodwork, staring with wide eyes. They're familiar eyes, for those who knew his father (and, as Albus knows very well, there is hardly a wizard or witch who hasn't heard of his father) - or better yet, his grandmother - and the jet-black, slightly messy hair is a another characteristic that bears a striking resemblance to the Boy Who Lived.

But on closer inspection, one can spot the differences. This young boy does not wear glasses. And he does not have the same air of confidence the Potters tend to have. (No Potter, for example, would hesitate by the doorside, contemplating slipping back out as if he'd never stepped in at all.)

Whether one recognizes the boy or not, the unmistakable 'I've never been here before, what is this place?' look is a familiar one for any regular patron of the bar.

[ooc: I meant to do this weeks ago, but did not get a chance. :( I really wanted to stick him in though, so here goes! This can totally be used for car keys, by the way! Should make it easier for some to tag. ;)

It is also subject to slowtime.

tiny!tag: albus potter]

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Normalcy is rebellion in her household.

Decidedly lame rebellion. But rebellion all the same!

Alexis blinks down at the paper - momentarily content to be distracted by the fact that Bar can write (Which. So cool.) - before even registering the words.

She grins widely when she does, however. "There's a library."

"Where?"

He glances around him, noting the staircase by the bar, the hallways leading to other parts of the establishment, and the back door.

"I suppose it wouldn't ... hurt to do a bit of exploring?"

"It's exploring for a good cause."

Alexis resists the bubbling urge to bounce in place, keeping enthusiasm to a beaming minimum. (Wouldn't do to scare him off now, Castle.)

"I mean," she toys with the edge of the paper. "If you think it would be a good idea."

He nods - and tries not to be so obviously excited about the idea either.

(Albus may or may not be a closet-mystery fan. So, this could bode well for when he reads Rick Castle's book later. Just sayin'.)

"Yeah - I do. It'd be um. Fun - or something. Right?"

There may or may not have been a great number of moments of pretend Nancy Drew-ing when she was younger.

(We're not going to mention how long ago 'younger' was. For the slight amount of anything resembling a reputation that she may or may not have.)

She snags the paper and turns, "Right. Where to then?"

"Well."

He peers at the hallway, which could lead to so many possibilities and gestures towards it.

"Where can a bar at the end of the universe ... hide a library?"

"Seems like a safe bet."

Her head cocks, leaning forward herself to glance down the visible length of hallway.

"And it's a relatively straight line," she adds. "So it'd be hard to get lost."

He nods, ~~beaming~~ smiling a little.

"I can already imagine the ... selection of books."

He starts forward.

She follows after him, quickly matching his pace and tossing a grin in his direction, "This would be so much cooler with spy music."

Not that she's going to hum any.

Well, certainly not outside of the privacy of her mind.

He laughs.

"I've never heard spy music before. What does it sound like?"

Yeah, a question like that really makes him sound rather stupid, doesn't it?

There's an answer to that question.

But it's probably going to make her sound pretty stupid.

She laughs, looks a bit like she would very much enjoy it if she were to spontaneously combust for a moment, and then shrugs philosophically. She mentioned it, after all.

Time to man up, Alexis Castle.

And, with a grin (and red cheeks) she begins humming the Mission Impossible (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XAYhNHhxN0A) theme.

At first, he has no idea what she's up to, but then he starts to get the hang of the tune she's humming.

"So when spies do ... spying, that's the song that plays?" he asks, when she's finished.

There might be a little bit of pleased applause at her performance in there, too.

"If the spy is Tom Cruise."

She's still bright red, but manages a crookedly amused bow for the clapping, not quite able to look back in his direction just yet.

"Um," she waves a hand. "There's a movie series. Mission Impossible. That's the theme."

"Oh."

He thinks he gets it.

In any case, he thinks Alexis is pretty amazing right now. He would never have the guts to sing or hum or anything!

"That would be a cool theme to have."

"It's a lot better with actual instruments."

Or when you're alone in your house with the lights off, a laser tag gun, and free reign to plaster yourself against walls and look utterly ridiculous without anyone ever knowing about it.

That would really be awesome. If Albus could even picture such things. Alas, he has never known the fun of playing laser tag.

"Epic. That's the word, right?"

"Uh-huh."

She manages to lift her eyes from the flooring this time around, smiling over at him - eyes crinkled and absently pushing her bangs out of her face.

"That one definitely works."

His smile widens for a moment, before he gets lost to the bashfulness once again.

Then it's back to their mission at hand.

"Some of these doors ... they're closed," he observes.

"Think that means we should open them?" she inquires.

It probably couldn't hurt.

And it wouldn't be much of a mission if they didn't do anything.

He nods.

"Yes. It's worth a try," he says.

Because - yeah. Missions tend to involve doing things that most people wouldn't. It's what makes them challenging.

Yes! And they are ready and willing for challenges.

Library-themed challenges. But still.

She points to her left.

"You open that one -" and then quickly over to her right. "And I'll open this one?"

Well, it's an improvement from no challenges at all!

He glances to the door she's gesturing at, then to the one to her right, and nods.

"All right," he says, shifting to get to it.

This is true.

They're working their way up. Slowly but surely.

She curls her fingers around the doorknob, twisting slightly and glancing back over her shoulder with a grin, "On three then?"

And the countdown begins.

He does the same too, following her motions quite precisely.

"One. Two ..."

"Three!"

She turns the handle the rest of the way, and tugs the door toward her, blinking in an entirely unimpressed manner at the brooms that don't so much look back at her as they sit there and don't do much of anything.

"Closet," she informs him dully, before letting out a quiet laugh.